Saturday, December 10, 2005

There's something debilitating about a "job." Note that a job might be distinguished from a career because a job is typically a means to an end, at least for those of us inured into the dredges of higher education. In particular a job, though promising a moderate to negligible stipend come the end of a two-week or one-week period, rewards little. Much of the work feels purposeless 1) because it is routine, which means it will necessarily have to be repeated again and again and again and 2) there's only a faint hint that anyone's life will have been graced by one's efforts; it is doubtful, after all, that a memorization of corporate up-sell technique will have brightened a beleaguered individual's perspective, or that a nimble ring-up at the cash register will shatter the gray wall between people and change the community for the better. At the very least, were I able to make a movie, it could, even for a moment, affect someone. A job is more or less devoid of those opportunities on a regular basis. I don't deny that here and there one may produce the kind of profound changes that lead to elusive "fulfillment," but as a cog in the machine, the glitter of individual spark typically erodes under the dimming tide of commercial grease.

My pessimism no doubt is part and parcel of my problem. Still, I hold onto the hope that I can be both a caregiver (of sorts) and a corporate lackey at the same time.